


my unironic favorite love song

by craftingdead



Series: ooh tee pee oneshots challenge 2k19 please help me god [3]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Character Study, Fights, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Polyamory, nick gets shoved off the couch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 06:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: A love of the centuries. If they don't kill each other before it happens, at least.





	my unironic favorite love song

**Author's Note:**

> (ak/ghetto/nick/shark - 3 points)
> 
> i forgot whats next up and im too lazy to go check

AK and Shark were really, really close. Like, best friend level close. But not exactly best friends, because there were already so many other friends they loved and cherished and were close with. But as much as AK hated to admit, and as much as Shark didn’t want to seem like he favored one over the other, they were not-quite-best-friends and not-quite-friends; stuck in the middle, with Shark’s dumb look and AK’s dumb choices. Not quite peas in a pod, but they fell out of their own and are now wilting on the ground together.

Yeah, sure, they were friends, but there were also days where they weren’t. Where AK was hostile and Shark just didn’t care anymore. Then they’d sit next to each other and do nothing until they weren’t mad anymore, and go on a supply trip and try to bond again. Or something.

People made jokes endlessly. “You two are like two rivers right next to each other, hating the other whenever more people fish from theirs but also being glad since that’d be what? That would be like snatching food out of someone’s throat. But then you two are glad to be next to each other because one day you’ll erode away then join together and be chill and not be jealous anymore,” Cory said, and it sounded dumb as fuck as ever, but it made sense to Shark in a way that it didn’t to AK.

“Yeah, okay, whatever, Cory,” he said and walked out of the room.

“You two are friends!” Nick explained. AK and he were on a run together and it wasn’t as awkward as he thought it was going to be. “Just because you two aren’t some big metaphor, or don’t wanna be one, doesn’t mean you can’t care about each other. There’s a difference between being casual ‘friends,’ or however you’d describe you and Shark, and choosing purposefully to remain close after all the shit you get into. I swore you would hate Shark after the fishing incident.”

He smiled so wide as he was explaining it, like he knew something AK didn’t and that totally didn’t piss him off. “Hey, I thought we would never bring up the fishing incident again. I’m going to die before I acknowledge that happen. I hope you’re here to see me talk about it on my deathbed.”

“Well, you just acknowledged it,” Nick said mischievously. “You two care about each other, I can see it, I’m not a fucking idiot”—it still startled AK whenever Nick swore so blatantly in front of them, for some reason—”even if you two are, like to ‘no homo’ your way through—”

“We don’t have what you and Ghetto do,” AK said and sped up to where they had to go. A run wouldn’t finish itself. And if Nick and his short legs couldn’t catch up, he’d do it himself. Maybe he should’ve invited Shark and avoided the psychoanalyzing session.

Shark burst out laughing. “Nick doesn’t psychoanalyze you, you paranoid freak!”

“Stop laughing. He totally fucking does. It’s like, his leader role or whatever.” Frankly, AK was pissed that Shark wasn’t taking his side. He just told him everything Nick said! He should be on his side and agree it was stupid, laughing at Nick, instead of laughing at _him._

He totally wasn’t jealous in a way.

“Oh my god, you dumb bitch,” Shark said, wiping away his near-tears. “But he is right. We are fucking idiots. But we’re friends, so that makes it better in a way. We don’t have to curse anyone else with our dumbness.”

AK looked away. “Yeah, sure.”

Their hands brushed over each others on his bed. They would be silent until Shark cleared his throat and made a very obvious exit. But instead, right then, they left their hands alone and pretended that their faces weren’t tilted away because they were bright as paint.

* * *

His knees dug into the ground and drew blood from ground flesh. He barely noticed, his legs barely stung. Rocks ripped into his leg and left tiny little cuts zig-zagged across the skin and his knuckles were bleeding too—but for a different reason. He was better on his feet but, if he had to, he would get on the ground for a fight. No matter how badly it hurt his exposed arms and legs, especially from sharp and cracked concrete ready to tear a nasty cut down his arm.

His hands were sore and so were his knuckles; the blood on them wasn’t his own. Instead, it was from Ghetto’s busted lip, the face from which was snarling dirty and with mild murderous intent. But AK wouldn’t deny that his face may hold the same.

A fist shot up and punched him in the nose. Hard. He heard a crack as a gush of blood came down, dripping down his face and falling onto Ghetto’s gray shirt, staining it to a dark red-brown already. That wouldn’t come out and AK could tell as he tried to stop the flow and instead got a lot of bright red blood against his pale skin. Fuck that color.

He just managed to get Ghetto in the eye as retaliation before his knee came up and got him in the stomach. Hands grabbed his shoulder and threw him to the ground, and off of Ghetto. AK, on his knees, coughed and wheezed. “I deserved that,” he said through his coughs.”

“You sure fucking did!” Ghetto exclaimed, now on his feet, looking down at him with a dirty look. “What, do you just attack everyone who says something shitty to you? You must’ve been a fucking riot in high school. Ten bucks, if I managed to find your old principle, he’d tell me that you were down at the office once every day or two.

“Shut the fuck up,” AK snarled, in no place to be swearing at him. His ponytail had come undone and his hair was getting clumps of nosebleed blood stuck in it. “You started the whole fucking thing. It’s not my fault, you provoked me. I could get you in big trouble with Nick for this.”

Ghetto leaned over him and grinned. “But you’re not. Because you don’t want Nick to know you were the one to throw the first punch. Out of both of us, personally, I thought I was gonna be the one to punch someone in the context of Jordan but, hey, it was you! I’m proud of you, buddy, you actually _do_ have a conscious. Sorry for the nosebleed.”

The sun shadowed him, the look of triumph barely visible on his face through the shadows but it was there, AK could feel it off of him. Ghetto raised the back of his hand and wiped the blood off his lip then spit more onto the ground, making loud retching noises.

“Yeah, blood sure does taste like shit, doesn’t it?” AK said through the blood that had gotten into his own mouth. Fucking Ghetto and his fucking fists. “You’re the worst person on Earth. I’m sorry for punching you.”

“Guess it’s time to kiss and make up now, huh?” Ghetto wriggled his eyebrows, threw his head back and laughed.

“I’m not gonna fucking kiss you, we both have blood in our mouth. That’s the worst way a kiss could go down, you dumbass.”

“Oh, so you owe me a kiss now?” Ghetto asked. “I’m telling Shark that you’re cheating on him.”

AK glared and Ghetto turned and starting running down the street of Seaport back to their place. Then he turned again, looked AK in the eyes, and blew him a kiss.

* * *

“What are you doing.”

Shark didn’t look at Ghetto. “I’m pranking Jess,” he said instead, as he shoved expired food down the barrels of all the guns she owned.

“Okay, okay.” Ghetto put his hands up. “Let me word that differently: Why _are_ you pranking Jess, out of everyone? She’s going to kick your ass for this, I hope you know. Also, like, couldn’t this get someone killed.”

“She can try, but AK will protect me because I asked him,” Shark said smugly. “No one’s going to die. I’m doing this because she and AK are going to go practice shooting later tonight and I wanna leave a little… surprise, for our dearest friend Jessica.”

“What did she do?”

Shark dropped some of the food and threw his hands up. “She fucking told Nick that I was the one who wrote ‘TWINK’ on sharpie on all of his shirts! I don’t know how she even knew, but she did and she told him! That was a fucking great thing I did, and she ruined the entire thing. I’m not actually that pissed, but I _have_ to get her back for it.”

“Yeah, but, can’t you think of something more creative? This is like, fucking, amateur stuff. It’s kind of pathetic, if you think really, really hard about it,” Ghetto said. He came up behind Shark and peered over his shoulder.

“Exactly! She’ll think I’m trying something more professional, she won’t suspect a thing!”

“Is this even going to work.”

“We’ll see. Oh, and, by the way, AK told me to tell you he apologizes for punching you that one time. Apparently, he feels ‘really bad about it.’”

Ghetto leaned back. “He did? Man, why couldn’t he have told me himself.”

“You weren’t there,” Shark said, “and he had to leave soon. He’ll probably say it when he gets back, too.”

“Okay. If you say so. Have fun fucking up all of Jess’s weapons, like a douche,” Ghetto said, leaned forward, and kissed the back of Shark’s head.

* * *

Nick woke up gasping for air. Rolled out of his bed, groaning when he hit the floor. Stumbling down the hall, hand on the wall, squinting through the darkness, he made his way towards the bathroom and, when he managed to turn on the burning bright lights, threw up into the toilet. “Fuck,” he gasped, wiped his mouth, then did it again.

The door creaked open. Footsteps stopped a little bit from him as he got rid of everything he’d eaten in the past day or two (which wasn’t much), and then some. Then they moved up and someone brushed his hair back and pulled it out of his face, holding it in a short ponytail above his head. They continued holding it like that until he pulled back, shaking like a leaf, and let out a string of curse words that would get him demonetized on YouTube.

“Hey, Nick, are you okay?” Shark asked, letting his hair fall. “Do I need to get Jin or Xavier or someone? Ghetto?”

“No, no—” Nick pushed away his offering hand, stuttering out, “No, I’m fine, Shark. Just had a pretty shitty dream. You don’t need to get Jin or Xavier or—or Ghetto, I’m fine, really, you can go now if you want, I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Shark pulled his hand away and instead stuck it in his pocket. “I guess, then. You didn’t wake me up, Nick, I just got back from a supply run with Uni and a few other dudes. People are starting to work on a farm, now, if you didn’t hear. Which you didn’t, uh, since you were asleep when it happened. Are you sure you’re fine? Do you want to talk about the dream you had or something? I don’t think this has ever happened before—are you positive I don’t need to get someone.”

“I’m sure, Shark, I’m fine,” Nick said, a little too forceful. His face burned in embarrassment; people weren’t supposed to see him like that. “I don’t wanna talk about it. It’s not that bad, anyway, just caught me off guard.”

He shivered. It definitely did not catch him off guard, but no one was supposed to know that fact. Fuck, he needed to get his nightmares under control, it was making sleep harder and harder. Shark looked worried as he offered his hand again, hesitant. This time, Nick took it and allowed him to help him get on his shaky feet.

“Thanks for helping, anyway,” he murmured.

“No problem,” Shark said.

Then he leaned in and hugged him, wrapping his arms around Nick’s waist. He almost pushed Shark away at first, almost jumped out of his skin at the surprise touch. “You know,” he said, “any one of us here is willing to be talked to. We’re all here for each other. You can always come to me if anything’s wrong. You know that, right?”

Shark stopped hugging him and Nick realized how cold he got after it ended. His hands were still on his waist.

“Yeah,” Nick said, casting his eyes to the ground. “I know. Thank you, Shark.”

He looked up and smiled weakly and didn’t make Shark blush hard to himself. And Nick didn’t hold on for a few more seconds, not wanting to leave Shark’s touch.

* * *

“Hey! AK! Watch out!”

He turned as a walker bit it, a gunshot going through its head. Nick was there as he turned, holding a gun, waving with his free hand. “Hey, thanks, Nick, that was almost something bad,” AK said and walked up to him. “Did Jess send you? I told her I was fine with going alone. It’s just a scouting mission for any hordes. Did you know that?”

“Yeah.” Nick bit his lip. “But—we haven’t hung out at all, it seems, so I wanted to come and see if I could help.”

“Oh,” AK said. “Uh, yeah! That’s fine, we can hang out. There shouldn’t be many walkers. Nothing to worry about, really. Are you absolutely sure you want to come? Didn’t Ghetto need your help back at the White House?”

“He did, but then he apparently fixed the problem right as I came in,” he said, putting his gun away. “Then Jess mentioned that you needed someone to help you scout, so I decided to come along. I guess she was lying about that, then, huh?”

AK rolled his eyes. “Yep. Constantly worrying about everyone, Jess is. But thanks for coming. I don’t bring people on runs much. Shark, sometimes.”

“Don’t you and Ghetto always get into fights whenever he joins you?” Nick smiled.

“And, yeah, that happens too. Shark was busy, so I decided to go on my own. But now you’re here, so it’s less of an alone mission, now,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. _And I never invite you because I keep getting distracted_ , said the betraying voice in the back of his head who spoke the secrets he kept hidden deep, deep in his mind. Nope. He didn’t get distracted. Why would his brain (and Shark, sometimes) say that? AK never has had a crush in his life—and especially not on any of his friends. That may have names that start with S and N respectively.

“Yeah!” Nick pumped his fist up in the air. “Now it’s a double, uh, mission. Hey, why do you call them missions? Sounds fuckin’ stupid.”

“Because they are missions,” AK said, taken aback. Were they stupid? No, it was a term that he used and that was correct. They weren’t stupid, there was no way. “We go on missions for supplies, and missions to kill off walkers.”

Nick wasn’t listening to him because he was stifling his laughter into his hand instead. “Okay,” he snickered. “Then let’s go on a ‘mission.’ Try to keep up!”

As he sprinted off, he turned around and winked at AK, and he suddenly remembered how many similarities between him and Ghetto there actually were. “Uh,” he didn’t squeak and tried to remember how to run.

* * *

The door slammed open. “Are you two making out?!” Jess demanded.

Ghetto choked on his drink. “What the fuck, Jess?” he said, accidentally spitting his water everywhere. Nick barely ducked out of the line of fire in time not to get soaked and gazed long fully at his ruined blanket.

“I’m half-asleep!” Nick yelled.

She reeled back and looked uncomfortably between the two of them, a guilty grin starting to spread across her face. “I swore I heard something suspicious from up here,” Jess said, starting to shut the door with a guilty look on her face. “Sorry! I thought I heard it from here. I’m just gonna, uh, do the exact same thing to every other room on this floor. Sorry again, sound travels weird in the CDC. Uh, if you’re tired, get some sleep, Nick. Sorry again!”

After she sheepishly shut the door, Ghetto threw his now empty water bottle at the wall because the rest of it had spilled onto his shirt. “Fucking, Jess,” he muttered, “I have no other shirts because of the dumb laundry rules.”

“Guess you’ll have to go freezing,” Nick said.

Instead of that, Ghetto almost immediately decided to pull his shirt off and throw it at the same part of the wall instead. And Nick almost gasped in surprise, before silencing himself in his sweater sleeve, and tried his damn hardest not to spend a good while staring at anything that could be considered “well-defined” on Ghetto’s chest because. Even with how hard it was to keep his eyes open. Fuck.

“Hey, Nick, are you okay, man?” Ghetto said, peering at him in confusion.

“Yeah. Yeah! I’m fine. Just had a rough night sleeping last night,” Nick responded, pretending to stare at the wall instead. And trying not to let himself pass out and hit his head on the wall and die by a concussion.

He could feel Ghetto’s eyes on him. “You had a rough night last night? What happened?” he said, getting off his side of the bed and walking, oh god, walking over to Nick.

“Nothing!” Nick stammered. “Nothing bad, really, I just had a… well, I just had a pretty shitty dream.” Eugh, like the night Shark helped him out.

“What was it about?” Ghetto asked. “Are you okay? Are you sick or something?”

“It was nothing. I’m okay, Ghetto.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, Ghetto. I’m just. Really fucking tired, if I’m being honest. Also, please, put on a fucking shirt, you have hoodies, I’m begging you. You’re not having this conversation shirtless. I’m too tired for this, please.”

He rolled his eyes at him and grabbed a hoodie from the ground. “I can handle you at your best shirtless, but I can’t handle you at your worse shirtless, I guess.” He was silent when Nick didn’t laugh, instead yawned into his hand.

“I guess you really are feeling pretty shitty if you aren’t laughing at my gold-star jokes then.”

“Yeah,” Nick said, too tired to think up of something witty to respond with. Fucking, hell, he hated Ghetto seeing him like this.

Ghetto was silent for a minute after that. Gave him a look. Scratched his chin. Then, much to his surprise, he got a hold onto Nick’s waist, got his other arm around his thighs, and stood up with him and Nick nearly passed out right then and there. “If you’re ‘really fucking tired,’ as you said you were, then I guess it’s time for you to take a real fucking nap. I tried my best to work really into there, don’t make fun of me for saying ‘real fucking nap.’”

“What?!” Nick squawked as Ghetto fumbled with the doorknob best he could with both of his hands occupied. “Oh my fucking god, _oh my fucking god,_ if you drop me I’m going to fucking kill you, I’ll break my spine if you do that.”

“I’m not going to drop you!” Ghetto laughed and Nick could feel it, with his head resting against his chest. A deadly reminder that this could’ve happened while he was shirtless. Fuck, he would’ve passed out. “I’m just giving a buddy a little boost to his room because if I don’t he won’t sleep for the rest of the day! Nothing bad here at all, totally won’t drop you on the stairs up to your floor.”

“ _Ghetto!_ ” Nick shrieked, as he adjusted the positioning and faked a “dropping Nick and breaking his spine” incident. “Oh my god, please don’t let Jess see this.”

“I won’t! I won’t! Get comfy, dude, it takes forever to get up these fucking stairs carrying someone!”

Nick’s heart was racing a million miles per hour but, after a while, the rhythmic movement actually got rather calming. And his eyes were getting heavier and—fuck, no, he wasn’t going to fall asleep in Ghetto’s arms. But his arms were really warm, and Nick was really tired. He woke up in his room in the middle of the night and, when he turned, Ghetto was asleep at his desk.

Nick smiled, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Ghetto,” he whispered.

He was asleep again before he could hear Ghetto groggily go, “You’re welcome.”

* * *

“Fucking—move over, Shark!”

“You move over!”

“Watch the elbows, guys—” 

“AK I’m shoving you off the couch.”

Nick screeched as he was shoved off the couch instead, with Ghetto shoving a pillow into AK’s face instead. “Fuck! Time-out, I’m getting Nick off the floor, if you hit me with a pillow there will be hell to pay.”

“Out of everyone you could shove off the couch—”

“You guys are the worst and I hate you.”


End file.
